


don't bother to learn the truth (it'll only make you sick)

by soapyconnor



Series: the kids aren't all right [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Dark fic, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, george is having a really bad time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapyconnor/pseuds/soapyconnor
Summary: Before George could really comprehend what was going on, his head snapped back and blood blossomed from his nose.
Relationships: George Luz/Joseph Toye, mentions of other ships - Relationship
Series: the kids aren't all right [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904674
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18





	don't bother to learn the truth (it'll only make you sick)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is kind of dark. don't read it if you're in a bad headspace

Before George could really comprehend what was going on, his head snapped back and blood blossomed from his nose.

George staggered backwards, pressing the wrist of his sleeve against his nose, desperately attempting to stem the flow. He looked towards Bill, who only glowered at him as the group immediately tried to get in between them, despite Bill making no attempt to move any further.

The look on Bill’s face told him everything he needed to know. He took one look at the group, saw that they were listening to the story Bill was relaying. Once he saw dawning horror spread over Carwood’s face, George knew it was too late.

He picked up his dropped school bag, and walked away.

The campus of Toccoa University was huge compared to a lot of other universities in the area. Despite everyone in his friend group knowing his schedule, no one managed to intercept George in between his classes.

. . . Well, everyone except for Lewis Nixon.

George saw Nix approaching before he could hurriedly change his path, and George just let out a sigh before he removed one of his earbuds. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sniffed; his nose still hadn’t quite healed from Guarnere’s punch.

“You’ve been avoiding everyone,” Nix said as soon as he got within speaking distance.

George resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he removed his cig and flinched the ashes into the grass. “Astute observation. Anything else you wanna let me in on? The secret to world peace?” It came out more biting than he intended it too, but he just took another drag of his cigarette.

Nix flipped his palms up. “Don’t bite the outstretched hand. Look, that story doesn’t sound like you. I know everyone else fell for it, but there’s always another side to the story.”

If George could find it in himself, he would have laughed. Instead, he just stared at Nix for a long minute, before he flicked his cigarette into the grass and stomped on it. “There is no ‘other side’. What Bill told you is the truth.”

Nix’s eyes widened. “You’re fucking with me. There’s no way that it’s true.”

George shrugged at him, and shoved his earbud back in his ear. “Goodbye, Nix,” he said before he turned and walked away. It wasn’t a satisfying answer, and he knew Nix would hound him if he got a chance for more information. Curse the bastard for wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Even if he told the truth now, what would it matter? Everyone believed Bill. It doesn’t matter that Joe hasn’t told the story himself. Bill said it, George wouldn’t dispute it, and that was it.

George entered the library, glancing around for any sign of an ambush, before he quickly headed to the back of the library, situating himself so he was hidden. He was about to pull out one of his textbooks, when he caught the briefest glimpse of Muck and Penkala. George narrowed his eyes, and held in a sigh as he watched the two peek around a bookcase, before ducking back once they saw George looking in their direction.

Angrily, George tossed his textbooks onto the table and opened them, ignoring the shushing that he received from other students. His pen scratched loudly against the paper, and he bowed his head, pointedly _not_ looking at the two.

They weren’t going to talk to him, anyways. They were just going to stare and whisper about him before they went on their way, like everyone else did. Momentarily, George put down his pen, folding his hands in front of his face and taking a deep breath, before he exhaled. He knew his heart was beating too fast, as was his mind, and he needed to _calm the fuck down_ before he threw up.

Inhale, exhale.

Feeling his heart slow down, he pulled his hands away from his face and began to go back to taking notes. Soon, the feeling of being watched disappeared, and he slumped down in the chair, relieved. Taking pity on his wrist, he significantly decreased his writing speed, and made sure to absorb what he was writing.

His phone vibrated against his thigh, and George ignored it. He got at least thirty email notifications from his university; he really didn’t want to break away from the mental space he found himself in.

Then, his phone vibrated a second time, and he pulled his phone out, wondering what could be oh so important that he received two notifications within a couple of minutes.

**267 – 837 – 7762**

Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend.

**267 – 837 – 7762**

I mean it, you nasty ass.

Leaning back in his seat, George slowly scrubbed a hand over his face, before he covering his face with his hands, his legs kicked out in front of him. It was clear who it was from, and George just couldn’t help but wonder _why him_? All he wanted to do was move on. If he could ‘stay the fuck away’, he would. But unfortunately, with little to no money to his name, and no car to sleep in, he had very little options. He would make himself disappear if he could.

A thought of blood gushing from his veins brought George out of his thoughts, and he nearly slipped out of his chair, his breath picking up again.

Once more his phone vibrated against the table, and George fought the impulse to toss his phone across the library as he blocked the number, followed by deleting the messages. God _fucking_ dammit, why wouldn’t they just leave him alone—

A shadow fell over him, and George froze, slowly craning his head upwards to look at the librarian. She stared disapprovingly down her nose at him, and that’s when George noticed that the general vicinity around him was void of people. He felt his face turn a deep shade of red, even though a small part of him was satisfied that people were avoiding him.

“Are you going to be able to control yourself, son?” the librarian asked, her nails clicking against the table as she tapped them. Heavily, George swallowed, and shook his head, slowly depositing his books back in his bag.

“Sorry,” he murmured to the librarian as he brushed past her. Fuck, today was just going to fucking suck.

George was passed out on the couch of his new home when the door creaked open. Lurching upright, he looked blurry-eyed to the door, before he slumped back down on the couch, tugging the blanket up over his head. He heard bags being dropped onto the counter along with a set keys, and he heard his new roomie moving around in the kitchen.

Eventually, the footsteps approached him, and a gentle hand pulled back the blanket. Blue eyes peered down at him, and Eugene said, “Ah. It is you.” George snorted and jerked the blanket out of his hand, scrunching up further on the bed. Eugene let him be, and returned to the kitchen, where he proceeded to put away the groceries, although he attempted to do it quietly. George was unsure what time it was; after he got back from the library, he promptly passed out, and if Eugene was back, he knew he had missed his last class of the day. Rubbing at his eyes, George tossed the blanket off, and sat up, adjusting his position on the couch so he leaned against the armrest. He pulled up his phone, and was relieved to see that his phone was barren of text messages.

“I heard about the texts,” Eugene said, his Cajun drawl almost lulling George back to sleep. George glanced at Eugene, before he looked back at his phone, running a hand through his hair. “Heffron had no right to text you that.”

George frowned. Hearing _Heffron_ come from Eugene’s mouth was . . . odd. His stomach rolled at what that could mean. “You didn’t have to go and get all upset on my behalf.”

“I’m a grown man, George. Ain’t no one gonna tell me what I can and can’t do in my own God damn apartment,” Eugene said, closing the cabinet. George scrolled through Twitter, his head fuzzy and eyes going blurry. Fuck, he really hadn’t wanted to cause Eugene any trouble. “Mama said the bed should be here in a day or two, by the way.”

“The couch is fine, Gene.”

“The hell it is. Don’t understand how you’re able to sit up straight. Thing hurts my back if I lay on it for more than two hours,” Eugene mumbled, gathering up all the paper bags.

George shook his head. “I don’t want to cause you or your family any trouble—”

“—An’ I told you, it’s no trouble. It’s an extra bed mama was gonna get rid of anyways. It’s better here than in a random landfill somewhere.”

George ducked his head and continued to scroll through his dashboard. Eugene let him be, putting the paper bags in the recycling before he grabbed his backpack and disappeared into his bedroom. George glanced at the clock, and groaned, realizing he was awfully close to having to leave for work.

When Eugene exited his bedroom, dressed in his bakery department uniform, he stopped and looked at George expectantly, his bag slung over his shoulder. George shrunk down a bit against the couch, and said, “I’m just gonna call in—”

“George. Get up and go get changed. You need money just as badly as I do.”

Head flopping against the arm of the couch, George let out a deep sigh. But still Eugene remained, staring down at him before he checked his watch. Eugene then moved around the couch, and gently nudged him with his foot. “C’mon, George.”

Groaning, George rolled over and flopped to the floor, glaring pitifully at his roommate, before he dragged himself to his feet. Like usual, his dress pants and red work polo were folded on top of the old dresser. He shed his clothes, and quickly dressed, buttoning up the top until it was regulation. He was in the process of tucking his shirt in and slipping his belt in through his belt loops when he joined Eugene.

“Black shoes?” Eugene suggested, and George groaned, before going back to the empty bedroom to retrieve those. Eugene nodded when he saw that the were in hand, and waited by the door as George shoved his feet into them.

After grabbing his wallet and name tag, the two left the apartment, heading down to Eugene’s shitty old car. It worked well enough for both of them, though, and now that George was basically using him, he had offered to help pay half for any repairs it would need.

The car creaked loudly as the two men got settled, and they both flinched at the loud wailing protest the engine made before it finally started. Pressing his forehead against the window, George watched the town go by as they headed to work. He hoped it would only be him at the customer service desk tonight, or at the very least it was one of the old ladies that worked there full time. He didn’t know what he’d do if he had to spend the entire night with Muck. He’d be able to avoid the other departments, but trying to avoid Muck would possibly get him fired.

Easy Co. Grocery was a rather intimidating building for a chain that was only in a couple of states. Despite that, it was hard to say what Easy Co. _didn’t_ offer. There was a wine and spirits, a health market section, a pharmacy, along with the standard bakery, deli, and meat departments. Then there was the other bullshit, like the entire aisle of makeup and body products, or the random Starbucks tucked away in a corner. Mercifully, it was one of the bigger stores, so any chance of breaks overlapping or running into someone was slim to none.

Eugene yawned as they walked in, and George kept his head tucked down, hands shoved in his pockets. Heffron was already at work in produce, and Heffron sent a very harsh glare at George, even though Eugene was ignoring him. Ralph and Renée were already behind the bakery counter, giving a wave to Eugene. Already wishing he called in, George casted a glance at the meat counter, feeling bile rising in his throat as he saw the back of Toye’s head, and Guarnere firmly glaring at him.

His shoulders were up around his hears by the time he and Eugene clocked in. Pinning his name tag to his lapel, he watched Eugene shove his bag into the lockers. “I don’t get off till ten,” George murmured, “So don’t bother waiting around—”

“Funny you say that,” Eugene interrupted, “Harry asked me to stay late tonight, since the truck is getting in later than usual.”

Pursing his lips in a thin line, George choked down any words before they manifested into sentences. He was sure that Eugene wasn’t lying, he was sure that Harry actually did ask him to stay, but he hated that he was using up Eugene’s good graces. He didn’t want to be a burden on this man anymore than he already was. Instead, he forced himself to smile. “Sure, then. That’s great.”

He was grateful when they were forced to depart; Eugene heading behind the bakery counter while George was forced to go to the front end. He checked the schedule behind the counter, and his shoulders relaxed when he saw that he and Muck shared no shifts this week nor the next. Despite the fact that he would still have to see some of the others, like Nixon—who, unfortunately, was the front-end manager—it was much more manageable to not be stuck with them behind the counter.

As George got into the groove of returning items as well as paying bills and taking money orders, he noticed that he was stuck with Dike as the front-end manager for the evening. Sighing, George went through the motions. Money orders, bill payment, dry cleaning, postal services—it was enough to keep him distracted from any negative thoughts and worries he could have. Smiling at customers and making sure their days were going to go at least a little bit better than his own was much easier than facing whatever thoughts were plaguing him. Watching the cashiers panic because Dike had disappeared for the tenth time of the night was a treat, too, especially since all George could do was page him over the intercom.

Eventually, Winters or Speirs would appear when they realized that Dike wasn’t doing his job, at which point George would promptly hide himself in the little alcove for customer service, pretending he was updating the dry-cleaning books. A couple of times he noticed that Winters was sending him sad glances, but he pointedly ignored those.

George tensed when he heard a familiar laugh. His head snapped up, desperately looking across the front-end, and froze when he saw Toye, Guarnere, and Heffron were in line, clearly buying stuff for their breaks. He tried to disappear into the alcove, but that was when a customer decided to show up, and began complaining about the makeup she had bought here previously.

Desperately, he tried to focus on the transaction in front of him, and he could practically _feel_ the three men’s eyes on him. His hands were shaking, his heart was racing, he wasn’t so sure he was doing anything right anymore—

“—George?”

His head snapped up, his mouth dry and his entire body stiff as he met Winters’ gaze. The man was looking at him with clear concern, and he realized suddenly that they had an audience. Cashiers and customers alike were staring at him, the old woman in front of him looked disturbed, and the three men that were currently the bane of his existence—

“Sorry,” George apologized, backing away from the counter. “Oh, Lord, ma’am I’m so sorry—”

“Are you okay, son?” she asked, eyes still comically wide. “You don’t look okay—”

“I—I don’t—” George stopped himself when he felt himself retch. The woman took a step back, and he felt Winters’ hand on his back. His eyes darted to the manager, who gave him a sad look.

“Why don’t you go sit down? I’ll take care of this order and then come talk to you.”

George desperately wanted to tell him that he was fine, that he just needed a moment and he didn’t need to talk, but he knew from the look on the manager’s face that nothing he said was going to change the man’s mind.

“I’m sorry again, ma’am,” George apologized clumsily to the customer, before he headed to the alcove, where he proceeded to collapse on the chair, burying his face in his hand. Was he gonna get written up? How long had he stood there, having a panic attack, and staring into the void?

George was chewing at the dried skin along the pads of his fingers, ripping them off in large chunks and not even flinching when it stung as he ripped off new flesh when Winters joined him. He didn’t look up at the man, instead he bowed his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

“George, what happened?” Winters asked, kneeling in front of him, clearly trying to look at his face.

“I don’t know, sir. No excuse, sir.”

“That’s not—” Winters paused, and sighed, running a hand through his hair. They were the same age, for Christ sake, but Winters had power and leverage over George’s job. If he believed Guarnere’s story, oh, it’d all be over for him.

George was chewing on his fingers when Winters continued, “I’m not here to reprimand you, George. I know that things right now haven’t been the best, and I understand that you are going through a lot. I just wanna know what caused this.”

George remained silent. What good would it do to tell him? You couldn’t keep Guarnere and the others away from the front-end. They had the right to buy snacks for their breaks as much as anyone else, and there really wasn’t anywhere else they could purchase them. Besides, Winters would just think of him as pathetic. Fuck, they hadn’t even _talked_ to him, or been within six-feet. George was just being fucking stupid, like usual.

“It’s nothing, sir. I’ll be okay. I just need a moment.”

Winters gave him a look that showed he wasn’t entirely convinced. “George. If you need to go home—”

“I said I’m fine,” George snapped, before his teeth clacked together so loudly, he was sure it echoed throughout the entire store. He just _snapped_ at his superior, and he knew he was going to get written up now if he wasn’t going to before. It didn’t matter what George thought of Winters, of what he _knew_ of Winters—the man always had a strong sense of work ethic and he knew that Winters wasn’t going to tolerate being snapped at that.

Before he could apologize, Winters gave him a sad look and patted him on the knee. “If you need to be relieved because you need some time, just let me know. This job isn’t worth your mental health.”

_This job was keeping me from thinking about this bullshit_ , George thought to himself as he watched Winters disappear towards the backroom. George bent over himself, the heels of his palms digging into his sockets as he attempted to take some steady breaths.

Inhale. Exhale.

Once he felt his heart slow, he rose to his feet. He was surprised when he returned to the counter, and the woman that Winters had helped was still standing there. “Did he not help you, ma’am?” George asked, blinking rapidly.

“No, don’t worry, he helped me,” she said, smiling tiredly at him. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. You had looked like you had seen a ghost.”

Cracking an awkward smile, George bobbed his head. “I’m fine. Thank you so much for the concern, though. I’m sorry that you had such an awkward encounter at Easy Co. today. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“Just seeing that you’re all right is all I wanted to see. Have a good night, George.” She left after giving him a wave, disappearing out the door. Slowly, George closed his eyes, and scrubbed a hand over his face. Fuck, he was failing at everything lately. Was it even worth it?

He felt drained as he went through the rest of his shift. He still managed to crack a smile, and kept his retail-persona up, making sure that no customer saw him slip up, but he felt just as bad as he did when Guarnere punched him.

George was restocking the lottery tickets when a shadow fell over him, the smell of dough and icing washed over him. Glancing up, he saw Eugene leaning against the counter, peering down at him. “Want a muffin?” Eugene drawled, holding out an item wrapped in wax paper.

George’s brow furrowed. “Sobel will be pissed if he saw you offering it to me.”

Eugene shrugged. “We were gonna throw ‘em all away anyways. Don’t matter if an employee eats ‘em or if they get taken out with the trash.” A pause. “So. Do you want it?”

George shrugged. “Put it in the alcove and I might eat it later.”

Eugene nodded, heading towards the small alcove, placing it on the counter before he sat down on the chair. From where he was sitting, Eugene and George could see each other, but customers couldn’t. “How’s your shift going?”

George shrugged, locking up the lottery case before he turned to the backwall, where he began to refill the slots with the correct cigarette cartons. “Fine. I’ve been enjoying watching the cashiers freak out.”

“Dike night?”

“Dike night.”

A small smile quirked at the edge of Eugene’s mouth before he took a drink of his water bottle. They sat in silence for a bit, the only sound being that of cigarette cartons sliding against each other. Occasionally, it was interrupted by a customer appearing at the counter, but other than that, they were in comfortable silence.

“They haven’t bothered you, have they?” Eugene asked.

The package of Marlboro 100’s slipped from George’s hand, and he cursed, scrambling to pick them up. He glared down at the cartons, but didn’t look to Eugene. Fuck, none of this was his fault. All of this was due to some dumb mistake George made—

“George.”

Eugene’s voice drew him out of his thoughts, and he could tell from glancing at his roommate that he knew where George’s head was going. George turned away, and shoved the packages into their correct slots. “No, they haven’t bothered me. I’m _fine_ Eugene.”

As he turned towards Gene, he witnessed him biting down on his lower lip. George’s gaze darkened. “Winters talked to you, didn’t he?”

Gene shook his head. “You know how word travels—”

“I’m fucking _fine_ , Eugene. I don’t need you to coddle me.”

There was no sadness in Gene’s eyes as he looked at George. Part of him was grateful for the fact that there was no sympathy there, nothing that indicated how Eugene felt towards him one way or another. George _knew_ that Eugene heard the story from Heffron, he had to of. There was no way that he hadn’t. Fuck, even people who didn’t know George that well were avoiding him at this point.

“I’m not coddling you,” Eugene replied, running a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to know. They shouldn’t be bothering you, not at work. ‘Sides, what’s done is done.”

George rolled his shoulders. “Yeah. I’m just over here wallowing in it.” Palm Mall was next on the list to restock, and George searched through the piles of cigarettes. “All that happened was I saw them and I got to thinking. That’s it. I’m all right.”

Eugene studied him, letting out a small hum and nodded.

He hated how easy it was for Eugene to not get involved. How he asked George if he was all right, but didn’t seem to really care about what Heffron had told him. George had never spoken of that day to anyone else, and wished to not think about it again. Sure, what happened had destroyed his friend group, but that was common when a breakup occurred. He would rather Toye have everyone, anyways.

Eugene checked his watch, and sighed, rising to his feet. Pointing a finger at George, he said, “You better eat this muffin, cause I know you ain’t getting a break tonight.”

Rolling his eyes, George waved a hand at him. “Yes, mother. I will eat the muffin.”

A smile twitched at Eugene’s lips. “See you at ten, George.”

“See you at ten.”

The breakroom was silent at ten o’clock at night. The night staff slowly filtered in, looking dead on their feet, or jazzed on an energy drink. Eugene had given him a sad look when he said that the frozen truck for bakery was running a little late, and he wasn’t sure how much longer it would be. George had waved him off. Eugene was helping Harry out; who’s George to get mad at him? He could wait in the breakroom for him.

Those familiar voices penetrated the silence of the breakroom, and George tensed, pressing his back up against the chair. He was grateful there was no lockers in the breakroom, and that he had sat in a chair that hid him from view.

“—C’mon, Joe, forget about him. It’s been nearly a month. Bastard just up and disappeared after I punched him, didn’t even try to defend himself. Let’s get you laid,” Guarnere said, and George could practically see the grin on the man’s face. George covered his mouth and nose to stifle any noise. He heard the time clock _ding_ as one of them punched out.

“I’ve been dating him since high school, Bill. Sorry it’s hard for me to just ‘move on’.” Toye sounded devastated, and George suffocated the high-pitched whine in his throat. Tears were pouring down his cheeks, his body shaking in the chair.

“We’re not saying that you get yourself into another relationship,” came Heffron, “We’re saying you got out there and fuck someone, as a big ‘fuck you’ to Luz.”

“Yeah, man! Come on, it would be good to get your dick wet. Lord knows that bastard hadn’t been giving you any for _months_ before you found him, and now the bastard’s got Roe under that weird spell of his.” There was a grunt, and he could practically see the headlock that Guarnere had Heffron in. “Now Heffron ain’t getting nothing!”

“Yeah,” Heffron groaned, “Do it for me, Joe.”

There was silence, and George clamped down tight on his mouth and nose. Finally, there was a sigh. “Fine. Let’s go get my dick wet.”

There was a cheer from both Heffron and Guarnere as there were two more _dings_ at the others clocked out. Slowly, their voice got further and further away as they disappeared down the hallway.

Tears were pouring down George’s cheeks, running hot and heavy over his hands as he stifled his crying. He felt like he had been stabbed, and a part of him wished he had been stabbed, instead of sitting here and listening to the love of his life fully admit that he was going to go get fucked as payback to him. He could feel the edge of a panic attack coming on, and he bent over, dragging his fingers harshly through his hair as he rocked himself, ripping them out at the roots in large clumps.

Shit, why hadn’t Toye or anyone else bothered to ask George what happened?

Why had Toye turn and ran to Guarnere? That man was going to fan the flames, going to Guarnere was the equivalent of pouring an entire gas can onto an already hot flame. Why couldn’t have Toye just stayed, why hadn’t he just asked George what had been going on—

George sniffed, his hands shaking and palms full of clumps of his hair. The words that Guarnere, Heffron, and Toye had flung at him echoed through his skull. It was like getting hit with them anew, and it made George sick. He had watched several decade long friendships crack and burn right in front of him as each group member listened to Guarnere’s story. Lipton’s reaction had hurt the most. They had been friends before they had joined the rest of the group. Summers had been spent writing letters and calling one another when Carwood went back to visit his family in Huntington, and there had been times in which George had joined him. All of that history, erased by just a couple of words—

He sniffed and whined low in his throat. Fuck Nixon for trying to give him hope earlier that day. Even if he told the truth now, no one would believe him. Hell, no one would have believed him to begin with—

George jerked as a pair of hands landed on his own, and he nearly butted heads with Eugene as he snapped his gaze upwards. Eugene looked concerned, his hands gently threading with George’s, letting go of the strands that George had managed not to rip free. Slowly, Eugene fell into a crouch in front of him, his hands intertwined with Eugene’s. “You all right?” Eugene mumbled, brow furrowing in concern.

Part of him wanted to spill to Eugene everything. Tell him how he ended up sleeping on Eugene’s couch, what had caused the break up to begin with, but he promptly decided he didn’t deserve that sympathy. George sniffed and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, before he wiped it against his trousers. “I’m fine.”

Eugene raised an eyebrow, and held up a couple strands of hair. “George.”

George flinched. “I just—” he stopped, running his teeth over his bottom lip. “I overheard Guarnere and them. They were talking about getting Toye laid, and I—” He burst into tears again. “I know what happened was my fault, but it hurts _so bad_.”

Eugene gave him a disbelieving look. “C’mon, George, you know I don’t believe that whole story Guarnere fed to us,” he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, dabbing at George’s eyes. George sniffed loudly, looking down at his hands. “You’ve got every right to be hurt.”

George shook his head, hands gripping at Eugene’s wrist. Firmly, Eugene said, “Yes, you do, George Luz. Stop trying to act like Guarnere and everyone else expects you to act about this. The story they told isn’t the truth, you and I both know it. You are allowed to grieve and be distraught over this.” Then, he grabbed George by the chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. “You are going to get through this, George.”

Swallowing hard, George looked deep into Eugene’s eyes, trying to find something in there that would show that the man didn’t believe what he was saying. “How can you believe me?” George croaked. “How can you sit here and not believe what they said about me? You barely know me.”

Amused, Eugene replied, “I know you well enough.” Slowly, he rose to his feet, and pocketed his handkerchief. “I know that someday, you’ll be willing to tell me the truth.” He helped George to his feet. “It doesn’t have to be now; it doesn’t have to be tomorrow. But someday, you’ll want to talk about it, and I’ll be here to listen to you.”

Tension began to build in his back between his shoulder blades as he swayed on his feet. He couldn’t look at Eugene, but he managed to nod his head. Eugene rubbed at his shoulder reassuringly, before they began to make their way out of the store. George shoved his hands in his pockets again, his eyes fixated on a patch of flour that had managed to end up on the back of Eugene’s collar.

He didn’t understand what he did to deserve Eugene’s kindness. Didn’t know what he did to deserve Eugene’s faith. Hell, the man was putting his relationship with Heffron at stake for George. It didn’t make any real sense. They had only been around each other a handful of times, and yet . . .

George pressed his forehead against the glass, listening to the engine grumble and growl as it attempted to start up. Fisting his hands above his knees, he closed his eyes. Lipton had looked so disappointed in him, and they had known each other for _years_. What was it about Eugene, where he was able to ignore that?

George flopped down on the couch once they got back to the apartment, pulling the blanket over him, and not bothering to change out of his work clothes.

Gently, he was nudged, and he opened his eyes to see Eugene hovering over him with a glass of water in one hand, and a pill in another.

Eugene said, “You have to keep up on them for them to have any affect.” George groaned, but sat up nonetheless and popped the pill in his mouth, before chugging the glass of water.

He slumped down on the couch, pulling the blanket over his head. “Goodnight, George,” Eugene mumbled, the light clicking off.

“Night, Eugene.”

George wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It felt like two years, but when he had asked Eugene one morning while he tried to keep himself from face planting into a bowl of cereal, he had been informed it had only been three months.

George froze, staring down at his Rice Krispies, listening to them crackle and pop in the milk. Eugene sat down across from him, stirring his spoon into his oatmeal, mixing up the strawberries, blueberries, and bananas he had added. Three months, and the only person he consistently was around was Eugene. Sure, Ralph and Renée would show up occasionally for some study sessions, but other than that, George has only had contact with Eugene.

He slumped in his chair, running a hand through his hair and held in a sigh. He wasn’t better, not at all. There were times where he thought he was doing okay, but then he would catch the sight of one of his old friends on campus or at work, and he would shut down again. The hardest ones to see were Toye and Lipton. A couple of times, Lipton saw him before George did, and headed towards him. But once George noticed him approaching, George would immediately turn and runaway as fast as he could, not wanting to know what Lipton had to say.

Toye was with different men every time George saw him. It hurt, carving deep into his chest when he saw someone in Toye’s lap, being kissed the way George used to be. He never saw Toye with the same man twice, and that hurt even worse. Even before they had dated, Toye had never been one to fuck around.

To know he had drove him to this—

“George.” Eugene nudged him with his foot under the table, dragging him out of his thoughts. George looked up. “You okay?”

George dropped his gaze. “I’m fine. Just thinking about stuff, that’s all.”

Eugene arched an eyebrow, but said nothing, and went back to eating his breakfast. Despite the mental breakdown he witnessed three months ago, Eugene never pressed him further or demanded information from him. Instead, he had let George be, and tried to distract by other menial topics. It was . . . nice, but it didn’t stop him from thinking about it.

A knock rang throughout the apartment, and George nearly dropped his spoon. Sighing, George said, “I got it,” as he stood, the chair legs scrapping against the floor. Eugene watched him head to the door, before he turned back to his oatmeal.

Without looking through the peephole, George yanked the door open, fully expecting it to be the postman.

“Hi, George,” Lipton said, his expression soft.

They stared at each other for a moment, before George slammed the door shut even as Lipton let out a protest. George locked the door with shaking hands, and pressed his back firmly against the door, before he slid to the floor, hands clamping over his mouth.

“George?” Eugene called, even as Lipton knocked again, calling George’s name and asking him to please open up. Eugene stood in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked from George to the door.

“Don’t let him in,” George whispered, “Don’t make me talk to him.”

Eugene shook his head. “I wasn’t going to force you too,” he said, moving towards the door and gently nudging him away with his foot. George scooted over, and Eugene opened the door a crack so he could squint out at Lipton. “He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Lipton made a pained sound. “I need to talk to him, Eugene. Please.”

Eugene shook his head, and George was so grateful for him. “You sent him into a panic attack, so I’m not letting you in, Lip. You’ve got to understand that. Say what you need to say from this side of the door.” Then, Eugene’s gaze darkened. “But I won’t tolerate you berating him in his own home. If you’re just going to be nasty—”

“I’m not here for that,” Lipton said, and he sounded desperate. George wished that he still trusted Lipton like he used to. He was going to be the first person he told about this whole thing, but Guarnere had ruined that for him, and now he didn’t trust him with it. “I just—I need him to know that I’m sorry for how I’ve acted.”

Eugene remained quiet, glancing down at George, who had slumped against the door, his palms lying face up next to him on the ground. George took interest in a crack in the linoleum, his cheek resting against his shoulder.

“I should’ve given you a chance for you to say your piece. Instead, I just—I don’t know. It doesn’t even sound like something you’d do, George. None of it sounds like you. There’s—there’s something else that happened, and no one let you talk, instead they attacked you, and that’s—that’s not okay. I shouldn’t have stood for it.” Lipton’s head clunked against the door as he pressed his forehead to it. “I don’t believe them. Toye won’t even say what happened, he just says Guarnere’s story is true. He doesn’t even know your side, and I can’t—I can’t ignore you anymore. It may be what they want everyone else to do, but I can’t. You’re my closest friend, and I know you’re hurting. I just—” Lipton paused, and sighed. “I just want you to know I’m sorry. And that if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you.”

Eugene kept the door cracked open by his foot jammed in the gap, his arms crossed. He looked down at George with a raised eyebrow, even as George traced the crack in the linoleum. Slowly, he closed his eyes, and sighed deeply, before he pulled himself to his feet. Nudging Eugene out of the way, he peered through the crack in the door at Lipton.

Lipton gasped as his eyes landed on George, and George flinched. He knew he looked like shit. Despite Eugene’s best efforts, George had rapidly lost weight. His cheeks were sunken in, large bags under his eyes. He had gone down at least a couple of sizes in his jeans, and he had to synch his belt tight to keep them up.

“Thanks, Lipton, but it’s too late,” George muttered. “Should’ve tried this a couple of months ago and I might’ve believed you.” Crossing his arms, George ducked his head. “Besides . . . what Guarnere said is true.”

Lipton blinked. “George—”

“No!” George snapped. “Don’t you fucking interrupt me. Guarnere’s story is the truth, all right? There _is no other side_. There’s just his side and that’s fucking _it_. Got it? Stop trying to give me a chance to ‘say my piece’ because all that’s gonna end up is you getting fucking hurt when you realize that I’m the piece of shit that Guarnere’s told you about. Whatever the fuck you thought of me, I’m sorry, but it’s fucking _gone_ and you’re just gonna have to live with that.”

Lipton just continued to stare at him like he had grown two heads. That enraged George even more. “What? The fuck you staring at, huh?” George snarled, stepping towards Lipton, who immediately backed up. Eugene grabbed him, jerking him back towards the apartment, even as George continued, “Is this what you fucking wanted? Me screaming and yelling at you, proving to you that I’m not who you thought I was? Well, here you fucking go!”

“George,” Eugene said, a hand grabbing George by the back of his neck. Anger and rage were running close to the surface, and he wished someone would fucking punch him. Hell, maybe he should go find Guarnere. He knew that Guarnere would gladly beat the shit out of him. Desperately, he wanted to see his blood staining the floor, running from his veins thick and hot—

“ _George_ ,” Eugene said, and gave him a firm push towards the door. That broke George out of his stupor, and at the look on Lipton’s face, George’s face drained of all color. The middle of his back hit the doorframe, and he turned, sprinting back into the apartment, slamming the door behind him. He could hear Lipton start to speak again, and soon Eugene’s soothing voice followed suit, but it was muffled by the door.

Entering his room, he promptly locked the door and collapsed by the dresser. He knocked his fist against the side of his head, digging his teeth into his cheek. Fuck, had he really shouted at Lipton like that? Lipton had wanted to apologize, had wanted to try and get things back to the way they used to be—

George threw up all over himself, and bent over, retching as vomit dripped from his mouth and onto the wood floor. He had been so desperate to keep everyone else away, that he gladly threw away his chance at getting _one_ friend back. But yet, he had self-destructed, and taken it out on Lipton.

He found himself sobbing, wiping at his eyes even as his stomach rolled and he felt like he was going to throw up again. He stuffed a hand into his mouth, quieting his cries and hopefully preventing himself from throwing up again. He already hated that he had to clean himself up like a fucking child.

George took his shirt off and slumped against the dresser, wrapping his arms around his legs, scooting away from his pool of vomit as best as he could. He pressed his forehead against his knees, his shoulders shaking. He heard footsteps approach his door, but they didn’t try the knob.

_Knock. Knock._ “George?” came Lipton’s soft voice. George flinched, and rocked himself. _Go away, go **away** ,_ he thought desperately. “I understand that you’re going through something extremely hard, and that you want to push away everyone that you can. But I just . . . I want you to know I’m here for you. Even if you’re not the person I thought you were, you will always be my friend, and I . . .” Lipton sighed. “I should’ve been there for you, and I wasn’t. I . . . I know you haven’t told Eugene what’s happened, but I hope you do. It’s not healthy to keep it in.”

A pause. George dug his teeth into his bottom lip, waiting for the footsteps to turn and walk away.

“I love you, George. I love you so damn much and it hurts to know that I’m partly the cause of it,” Lipton whispered, and George was surprised he heard it. “Whenever you’re ready to forgive me—and you never have too—I’ll be waiting for you. My door’s always open, and my number hasn’t changed.” Another pause. “Love you, George.”

George listened as the footsteps retreated. He heard two voices again, before the front door opened and shut. Footsteps approached his door again.

“I understand this is hard,” Eugene murmured, “But I think it would help for you to talk to someone. I really do. I said this could be taken at your own pace, but this is going to kill you if you keep it up.”

George knew this. Part of him was happy to know it was slowly killing him.

“When you’re ready to talk, it doesn’t matter if it’s me, or if it’s Lip, one of us will be there, ready to listen to you.”

Then, Eugene retreated. George propped his chin on his knees, his nails digging into his skin.

What would it matter, anyways? If he told the truth, it would bring Toye back.

_She was so soft. It was so different than Joe. Joe was muscled, broad-shouldered and held him down by the throat. She was soft, and George could easily toss her off if he wanted too. But he was terrified. She had slapped him when he had pushed her away the first time, and when he had grabbed her by the wrists, she threatened to scream._

_Her nails dug into his throat, while her other hand brushed along his gut and under his shirt. She rolled her hips, letting out high-pitched, jagged moans and her head was tossed back. Her skirt obscured his view, and George was grateful, as he didn’t want to know what it looked like to see his cock disappearing into her cunt._

_George’s head was sluggish. Part of him wanted to throw her off, be damned of the consequences, but the other part of him knew that if he did, it could be the end of his college career. She had already threatened to go to the university if he tried to get her off. And with his cock slowly leaking cum, the school would believe her story without a doubt._

_He felt her cunt convulse and squeeze around his cock, as if she was trying to milk him. Her hand disappeared from his chest and went behind her, where she slowly began to message his balls._

_George scrunched his eyes shut, desperate to escape from this. He yelped as she slapped him across the face, and he stared up at her, wide-eyed. “Don’t you fucking dare look away from me,” she snarled, her nails digging into his cheeks. It stung so bad, and he wanted her to **stop** , so he looked her in the eye. She just smiled, pleased, and went back to bouncing on his cock._

_“I knew you were no faggot,” she said, running a hand through his hair. “No faggot would be this hard—”_

George awoke with a scream, shoving at the empty air, and he fell out of his bed. A couple of nights had passed since Lipton had showed up at his apartment, and ever since, his dreams had been plagued with that night. It had gotten so bad that George had called into work, unable to look at female customers without having a panic attack. He didn’t have this issue when this whole thing first happened, but now from the moment he closed his eyes to the minute he was woken from the nightmare, it was all he could see.

He couldn’t even be left alone with Renée. He knew that Renée would never do anything like that to him, but he had thought that with his classmate, too.

George pressed his forehead against cold wood, feeling the sweat slowly cooling against his skin. He felt sticky and gross, and he fought the urge to go hide in his bathroom.

Slowly, he raised his head as he heard a knock on the door. Eugene poked his head in, not waiting for an answer. “Are you all right?” he asked, his hair going every which way. George blinked and forced himself to sit up, pressing his back to the bed, and burying his face in his knees.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Closing the door behind him, Eugene walked over and saw down on the ground next to George, leaving a good amount of space between them. “It’s all right,” Eugene murmured, crossing his legs. “It sounded horrible.”

George rubbed at his eyes, and nodded, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling. The clock had read 1am when he had glanced at it, and a sense of shame washed over him as he realized that Eugene would have to be up for class in three hours.

“You should head back to bed,” George muttered.

“Not until I know you’re okay.”

George rubbed at his eyes, before he folded his hands in his lap. Was he okay? The memory of the weight of the woman on top of him sent a shiver up his spine, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep after this, for fear of the nightmare and that he would wake up Eugene again.

“I don’t know,” George said, swallowing.

Eugene bobbed his head.

George wasn’t so sure what it was that made him feel like he should talk about it. Could be the fact it was late at night, or the fact that he had just woke up his roommate by his screams. But for the first time since this happened, since he had moved in with Eugene, he had wanted to talk about it. Tell _his_ side of the story.

Slowly, George turned and looked down at the ground. “Are you in an okay position for us to talk?” George mumbled, his nails scratching at the wood floor.

Eugene turned towards him, but kept his expression schooled. George wasn’t entirely sure what the man was thinking, but Eugene nodded, and George’s shoulders slumped.

“If I start talking and you can’t stand to hear it—”

“George, I wouldn’t say I was able to listen if I was just going to turn around and say no.” Eugene took his hand, and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Take your time.”

George took a shuddering breath, and then he began.

He started with how he met the girl he had ‘cheated’ on Toye with. How she was one of his classmates, and that she had struggled in their class, so he offered to help her out. How Toye knew about it, and was okay with it, since obviously, George was gay and wasn’t attracted to her. How he treated her like he treated any of his other friends, and made the same jokes, too, which included the occasional flirty comment.

George shook as he explained that she clearly didn’t take it that way. He was trembling and stuttering as he explained that the day this all happened, they had been alone in the apartment, and she had attacked him, kissing him and holding him against the wall. How when he tried to shove her off, she said she’d scream, or tell the campus police that he had attacked her. How she proclaimed that she _knew_ he was straight, that there was no way that he was gay with the way he flirted with her.

George had to pause to keep himself from throwing up as he explained how she had forced him to the bedroom, into his and Toye’s bed, and did nothing more than take his cock out and shed her underwear before she began to fuck herself on him. He didn’t repeat the things she said to him, as he could already see the shock and horror dawning on Eugene’s face.

George swallowed heavily. “After I came, she didn’t stop,” he said, his voice cracking, his nails digging into his throat. “She kept on and on, until Joe— _Toye_ got home. He—he came in and saw it. Guarnere saw it, too, and they just—” George pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes. “They just let her go. Told her to leave, and she just . . . listened. I was so in shock and—and hurt by the things she said that I didn’t even realize how it would look to them.”

“George—” Eugene began, quietly.

George laughed. “Then they were screaming at me, Guarnere and Toye both. Acted like I had wanted it, ignored the bruise on my face and everything.” George dug a hand in his hair. “Can’t believe it. Even fucking Toye made a comment about how he knew I was never gay, that I had been playing him like a fool.”

George turned towards Eugene; his eyes filled with tears. His voice cracked as he spoke, “Can you believe that? We were together for five years and he always had doubts that I wasn’t really gay. That I was just—” He sobbed. “ _Faking_ it or whatever the fuck. That I was just—” He laughed. “I dunno. Trying to be ‘special’.” He swiped at his eyes. “Fuck.”

Eugene swallowed heavily, his gaze never wavering. “George,” he finally said, “You have to tell someone. You have to tell the guys the truth. This—this isn’t right. What they’ve done, what she did, isn’t right—”

“Even if I do, what good will it do? They’ll think I’m lying to save myself. It’s been too long for anyone to believe me now,” George said, barking out a laugh. “Sides, no one’s gonna believe I just laid there and _took it_.”

Eugene looked horrified. “George, you’ve _got_ too—”

Cradling his head in his hands, George rapidly shook his head. “I can’t, Eugene. I fucking can’t, and don’t make me do it. I’m not—I’m not ready for all of them to know what I let her do to me.”

“No one will blame you for what happened, they’re not—”

“Oh, really? Because they already have,” George snapped, blinking away the tears. “Please, Eugene. Just . . . just only you get to know, okay? Only you.”

“Okay,” Eugene said, “Okay, George. Only me.”

Slumping against Eugene, George curled into his side. “Thank you, Gene,” he murmured.

Eugene wrapped his arms around him, and George listened to the steady beat of his heart.

Telling Eugene what happened didn’t make George feel any better.

The nightmares had tamed, and once George woke up from one, he would be free of them for the rest of the night. But he didn’t feel better. He felt like Eugene was always staring at him with this pitying gaze, and he had a feeling that Eugene had told Ralph and Renée about it, despite the fact that he had promised not to tell anyone.

However, Eugene didn’t prod and poke at him to tell anyone anymore after that night.

Now, George was starting to see his attacker everywhere. He caught glimpses of her disappearing between aisles at his work, saw her head poking out around bookcases in the library. Once, he was sure he had watched her slink into Eugene’s room, and the only thing that prevented him from bursting in there was the fact that Eugene had been at class.

Naturally, he didn’t let Eugene know any of this. He just smiled at his roomie, and told him yes, he was feeling much better, thank you. No, he wasn’t plagued by dreams, and he was happier. George forced himself to eat three meals a day to put Eugene’s mind at ease. He hated the feeling he got deep in his gut when Eugene would give him that small smile, and say, “It looks like you’re putting on weight,” although he said it in a different way than that, as if he was trying to make sure George didn’t relapse or some shit.

And sure, he was putting on weight. His hip bones didn’t jut out as badly as before, and his cheeks weren’t so sunken, but it didn’t make George feel any better. Waking up in the morning and getting out of bed was still a fight, but George blamed it on the fact that the love of his life was never going to know the truth about that night.

George saw less and less of Toye, whether it being the fact that George completely changed his routes to campus, or the fact that their shifts just never matched up at Easy Co. But it hurt when he did see him again—when Toye looked the exact same as he did before, and George was this horrid, ragged mess.

“Ma’am, I cannot sell this to you for this price. The ad is not out yet, and I’m not sure who _told_ you about these prices or gave you the ad, but I can’t sell it to you,” George said, the ad clutched in his hand as he shook his head.

The woman glared at him. “I’m telling you; it was in my mailbox when I got home. Perhaps the people are corporate shouldn’t be sending it out then before its accurate?” She waved her hand towards the ad. “It’s false advertisement for your ad to say one thing and for you to sell it to me for another.”

“It’s not false advertising when the ad _i_ s _not in date yet_ ,” he explained, “And like I said before, these ads are not our mail-out ads, so someone who works here or at another store must have given it to you—”

“I’ve had enough of this!” the woman snapped, and George resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Let me speak to your manager!”

_Lady, that is the last mistake you’ll ever make_ , George thought to himself, and smiled gently at her. “Sure, ma’am. Just a moment.” He cleared his throat as he picked up the intercom, and paged, “Ron Speirs to the customer service desk, please.” He repeated his request once more, followed by a ‘thank you’ before he hung up. “He’ll be up in a moment, ma’am.”

The woman smiled, not realizing yet what she had done. While customer service was an essential part of Easy Co., their store director encouraged them not to waste their time with it. George would gladly call Speirs up to deal with the shit he didn’t want too, not to mention the man seemed to get off on it.

George let the customer be once he spotted Speirs heading towards the counter, and he disappeared into the alcove, relieved that he could finally catch up on the laundry slips that had come in since the start of his shift. He glanced occasionally towards the counter, where he watched Speirs stand with a bored look on his face, his arms crossed. He didn’t even flinch when the woman hit him with her bag, but he _did_ take a step closer.

Whatever he said to her must have worked, because she picked up her item and glared at Speirs, before she promptly left the store. Speirs sighed, and picked up the ad, tucking it under his arm. Instead of heading to the backroom, though, he headed towards George.

Gulping, George straightened up. “Sir?” he mumbled, barely able to meet Speirs’ gaze. Slowly, Speirs placed the ad down, his eyes never breaking from George’s.

“I’ve given you time to work things out with Carwood,” Speirs began, and George flinched. “I know he didn’t come to your side when it first happened. But he knows it’s not the truth, and I know he’s apologized to you.”

“Sometimes apologizing isn’t enough, Speirs.”

“I’m not saying you have to forgive him completely,” Speirs replied with a grunt. “But if you hadn’t been avoiding him as long as you had, you’d know that Carwood wanted to apologize to you the week after everything happened. He wanted to give you time, and then when he went to apologize, you had practically disappeared. Then when he figured out the new routes you were taking, you turned and bolted any time he got close to you.” Speirs crossed his arms. “I don’t want you to act like nothing happened. You’re allowed to be pissed at him, and frankly, I would’ve been pissed too.”

It unnerved George how Speirs never looked away. The fucking bastard didn’t even _blink_. How the hell did Lipton stand to fuck him? “But he misses you. And I’m tired of him being sad and distraught over it.”

“What the hell do you want me to do about it, then?”

“Just—” Finally, Speirs broke eye contact as he pinched his nose. “Just—talk to him. You don’t have to forgive him. I’m not _saying_ that. You don’t have to completely forgive someone to speak to them again.”

Well. Speirs was right about that . . . George could count on both his hands how many times his mother had forgiven people she shouldn’t have, in George’s opinion, but had always told him that she didn’t forget what they did, but that she thought they deserved another chance. At the time, that hadn’t seemed reasonable at all, but . . .

George missed Carwood so bad.

“I’ll text him, okay?” George said, slowly. “I’ve missed him too.”

Speirs nodded, placing his hands on his hips. “You do that,” he said, before he turned and headed towards the backroom.

When George met Eugene at the end of his shift, Eugene—covered in flour and powdered sugar—gave him a small smile. “You look happier,” Eugene said as he clocked out.

George blinked, and tilted his head. He felt . . . lighter. George shrugged. “I got to watch Speirs rip into not just one customer tonight, but _three_. Wouldn’t you have a good night if you saw that, too?”

Eugene chuckled, and his smile widened. “I suppose I would’ve. I could’ve used him tonight.”

Giving Eugene a once over, he said, “You look like it.”

Pushing at his shoulder, Eugene shook his head, even as George chuckled and stumbled. Once George was clocked out, the two headed out to the parking lot, shoulder to shoulder.

George fiddled with the cardboard around his drink, his eyes darting towards the door every so often, before he glanced at his phone.

**Me**

Can you meet me at Bastogne’s at eleven? I want to talk to you.

**304 – 565 – 2190**

Of course, George. See you at eleven.

Slowly, George scrubbed his hand over his face. Now that he was sitting here in Bastogne’s, ten minutes early to the meeting he set up with Carwood, he was unsure of himself. Did he really deserve Carwood’s forgiveness? Sure, he knew, logically, that he hadn’t done anything wrong, Eugene had more than forced that in his head, but Carwood didn’t know that story. Didn’t know the truth, and to him, he was forgiving a cheater.

But again, George had to remind himself, if things went all right, Carwood would end up knowing the truth anyways. All he had to do was put himself out there again. Considering the fact, it’s only be nearly four months, it shouldn’t be that hard to put himself out there. Toye managed to do it with no problems. Fuck, five years really seemed to mean nothing to him.

George jerked as the door opened, but he relaxed into his seat when he saw it was Carwood. He smiled awkwardly, and Carwood returned it, blinking in surprise when he saw that George had two drinks in front of him.

“You didn’t have to buy me a drink,” Carwood said, sitting down and gently blowing on the drink before taking a sip.

“Considering I’m dragging you away from your life, it’s the least I could do.”

“George, you’re not dragging me away from anything.”

Pursing his lips into a thin line, he slowly turned his gaze downwards and rubbed his thumb across the Styrofoam. He knew he shouldn’t feel that way, that he should be happy that Carwood seemed to actually want to fix their friendship, but he couldn’t help but feel . . . guilty.

George jerked, his eyes going wide as Carwood gently put a hand over his own. However, he didn’t jerk from his grasp, and so the two just looked each other, Carwood squeezing his hand. “I am truly sorry, George,” Carwood said, and he looked so genuinely sad it made George’s stomach roll. “I never wanted to hurt you like that.”

George jerked his gaze down. “I really shouldn’t have cheated on Toye then.”

“I know that’s the story Guarnere fed everyone, but I don’t see you cheating. Especially not with a woman. You’ve _never_ been interested in them in the entire time I’ve known you, and that’s over a decade.”

“It seemed real enough for you all to believe.”

“Joe . . . Joe looked so hurt, and Bill spoke with such conviction, at first it seemed like it had to be the truth. But you never argued, never said otherwise, and the story didn’t make sense. I’m not the only one who doesn’t believe the story, anymore.”

George slowly took his hand away from Carwood, and he chugged his now lukewarm coffee. “You’re the only one who’s made the attempt to talk to me.”

“Everyone else figured that you hated them, and didn’t want to talk to them. You’ve made yourself pretty scarce,” Carwood said, before pausing. “I know that doesn’t excuse them not reaching out to you. We all have your phone number. But while Babe, Joe, and Bill still have a problem, the others want to say they’re sorry. They miss you, too.”

“No one’s said that. Like you said, they have my phone number.”

“Some things are better to say in person.”

George glanced away. “I don’t want to talk about them anymore. Them or their excuses,” he said, “Besides, I don’t . . .” He closed his eyes. “I don’t want their friendship anymore. Or at least not right now. But . . . But I do miss you.”

Carwood’s eyes softened. He reached out once more, and tightly squeezed at George’s hand. “I miss you too, George.”

“I don’t know if things can go back to the way they used to be,” he said, allowing Carwood to continue to hold his hand. “But . . . But I would like to try.”

“I’d like that, too.”

George sat back in his chair; his shoulders slowly relaxing. It felt nice, knowing someone he loved still cared about him. As they talked, discussing what had been going on in their lives the last couple of months, George decided he would tell Carwood what had happened someday.

They squeezed each other in a tight hug. “Don’t be a stranger, George,” Carwood said. “The door is always open.”

“I don’t know how much I’ll come around,” George murmured, “But I’ll definitely text you, all right?”

Carwood nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

George watched him go, peace filling his entire being. Slowly, George pulled out his phone, and clicked on the conversation between him and Carwood.

**New contact added: Carwood Lipton**.

Slowly, things were getting better. George still wasn’t all that happy, and the nightmares plagued him constantly, but things were . . . all right. He couldn’t hang out with Carwood all the time, as Toye, Heffron, Guarnere, or all three were usually hanging out around him. Nonetheless, they texted and Face Timed each other when they could. It was nice to have his old friend back, even if it was in a more stilted form that it had been before.

Eugene was happy for him, too. Fuck, the night that he came home from meeting Carwood at Bastogne’s, Eugene had made his favorite meal. Despite the fact that he never said why he had made George clam chowder, both of them knew what it was for, and for once, George couldn’t feel bad about it. He stuffed himself full, and fell asleep that night, contented.

His weight was all right. Having someone else to mother hen him certainly helped, even though Carwood wasn’t as bad as he used to be.

The apartment was silent as he got ready for the small get together Carwood had invited him to. Eugene would be there along with Ron, Welsh, Winters, and Nixon, which George didn’t really mind. Nixon had tried to apologize to him soon after it happened and had given George the benefit of the doubt. He knew that neither Winters nor Welsh probably believed the story, even if his anxiety told him otherwise.

Once, the landline ringed, but when George went to check the phone, it was too late. His phone was dead and lying with the charger, but George had just shrugged at that. He wouldn’t need it while at Carwood’s, no one was going to text him anyways. Besides, he was just going to catch the bus and ride over. It wouldn’t take that long.

The bus smelled a bit as George took his seat. He ran his fingers through his hair, and leaned his head against the window. This was the best he had felt in months, and he wasn’t going to let anything ruin his night.

Taking the steps in the apartment building two at a time, George paused by the door when he heard voices. They were terribly muffled, and he couldn’t make out what was being said.

Sighing, George hoped that Nixon and Welsh weren’t drunk already, yelling about which one of them loved their significant other more. Shaking his head, George stepped inside the apartment, and his heart dropped to his stomach.

“You need to fucking go,” Carwood and Eugene both snapped, but phrased it very differently. Toye and Guarnere were standing in the entryway, facing off with the others. Heffron was shifting from foot to foot, looking unsure next to his— ex? —boyfriend. George froze as all the eyes swept to him.

“Oh, I see why you didn’t invite us to this little get together,” Toye said, and George could practically smell the alcohol wafting off of both of them. Heffron’s nose was red, signifying he was pretty slushed as well, although he remained silent. Toye whipped towards him, glaring at him, before he turned to Carwood. “Really going to take that dirty fucking cheater’s side?”

“He didn’t cheat on you, Toye,” Eugene said, “Stop trying to make it seem that way.”

“Oh, yeah? The fuck was he doing then?” Guarnere asked, and George found himself shaking. “You really don’t end up balls deep in a girl on _accident_.”

“George is _gay_ , Guarnere,” Carwood snapped. “You don’t date someone for five years if you weren’t in love with them.”

“Find, the little bastard is bi, then. Doesn’t change a God damn thing.” Guarnere glanced at George, and sneered. “You fucking whore.” The man paused, then laughed mockingly, “Oh, look, he’s crying.”

George blinked, and swiped at his cheeks, surprised by the tears that were pouring down his face. He didn’t want to seem like he was weak or he was manipulating them, because that’s not what he wanted. But hearing these words slung at him—

“Shut up!” Eugene shouted, taking everyone by surprise. “Shut the hell up, Guarnere!”

“Oh, brave little Roe is speaking for the whore,” Guarnere sneered again. “Fucking dumped Babe to take Georgie’s side. You’re lucky you’re pretty, cause you sure as hell are dumb for taking his side.”

George looked to Eugene. He trusted and loved Eugene with his whole heart, but now he got a sickening feeling in his stomach. He knew that any other time, Eugene would have taken the information he had been given to the grave. But he was so pissed, and from the look of it, Eugene wasn’t going to let everyone believe this lie anymore.

“He was _raped_ , you fucking asshole!”

Silence echoed throughout the apartment for a good five seconds before it was filled with the sound of George retching, followed by a splat as vomit hit the carpet.

George was folded in two, his entire body shaking. No one approached him, and when he glanced up, he saw they were all frozen in shock.

“You’re fucking lying.” Guarnere said, even though Toye suddenly looked sober.

“I’m not,” Eugene said, his voice firm. “George is gay, always has been, is still in love with your dumb ass,” he pointed at Toye, “and he trusted his classmate, and she abused that trust. She fucking raped him, told him she would scream or run to the campus police if he fought against her, and you fucking took it at face value.”

“If he was really raped, he would’ve—”

“Would’ve done _what_?” Eugene was starting to sound hoarse, now. “Told you? You didn’t give him a fucking chance. Tossed him out on the street while he was trying to understand what just happened.”

“He—”

“He what? Shouldn’t have let it happen? Should have thrown her off? She would’ve run to the campus police and George would have been tossed out on his ass by the university faster that he could’ve said ‘uncle’. No one would have believed him, like you aren’t right now.”

George felt his stomach lurch and he bent over, trembling as he grasped at the door frame. This was too much. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him. He didn’t want to see the pity, see the worried looks—

“George?”

Fuck. That was Toye. Toye was addressing him for the first time in five months. Slowly, George straightened up, and looked Toye in the eye.

Then, he bolted.

George didn’t blame Eugene. If the situations had been reversed, George would have exploded and would have let it slip, too. He wouldn’t have been able to stand by and listen to whatever drunk ramblings Guarnere said.

No one ran after him immediately. He knew they were all in shock. Not to mention Guarnere and Heffron were probably still getting a dressing down about the situation, as well as Toye.

God, the fucking look on Toye’s face—

George slammed the apartment door shut and locked it, despite knowing it would do no good. He ran to the bathroom and locked the door too, before he slid to the floor, muffling his sobs into his palms.

God, everything hurt. He just wanted it to stop. He didn’t want to face them, not when they all knew the truth. He didn’t—

George’s eyes landed on the straight razor on the counter. Bless Eugene, the man was unable to shave with anything else, but now in this moment, George really wished he hadn’t.

Slowly, he picked it up, the wood handle heavy in his hands. He leaned back against the door, and closed his eyes.

“George? George!”

Frantically, someone was shaking at his shoulders. “Oh, God, George—” another voice began.

_Eugene_ , George’s mind sluggishly supplied. His fingers were cold, and he wondered why Eugene had disturbed him from his nap.

There were other footsteps, and another voice, different from the first two. “Oh, God, Eugene, I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t just stand there, Heffron! Call an ambulance,” Eugene snapped, before there was a crash as someone went to the floor.

George’s eyelids were pulled back, and the light blinded him. He wanted to suck in a breath, but it hurt too much and he couldn’t find it in himself to do so. “Stay with me, George,” Eugene said, even as the first person who entered the room muttered, “I can’t lose you.”

George lost consciousness again, his head slowly falling back against the wall.

The light burned his eyes as he pried them open. George blinked a couple of times, before he rubbed at them, prying the gunk out of the corner of his eyes. A low moan escaped him, pain shooting through his forearms.

Blinking awake, George found himself in a hospital room, his forearms wrapped with thick gauze. Slowly, George looked from arm to arm, before he looked at the wires attached to him. Frowning, he slumped back against the bed, eyes traveling the room, where he found Eugene and Carwood both slumped next to each other in a chair, leaning heavily against one another.

George’s throat was dry, and it hurt to speak, so he didn’t. His eyes traveled the room, and he was confused when he saw a blood bag on one of the IV drips.

What had he done?

The door creaked open, and a nurse poked her head in. Upon seeing George awake, she smiled gently at him, and stepped in. “You gave your friends quite a shock,” she murmured, making sure to not wake up Carwood or Eugene.

George blinked tiredly, and glanced towards the thing of water on the counter. Without a word, she picked it up and held it to his lips, where he carefully sucked down a couple mouthfuls of water, before she pulled away. He frowned, but kept himself settled against the bed. “There’s a whole party of people outside for you.”

Something struck at George, then. A whole party of people? Fuck, the only people in his life were here, besides Ralph and Renée.

“Send them away,” George murmured. The nurse looked concerned. “They can stay,” he nodded to his sleeping friends, “But send the rest away. I don’t want to see them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please,” George tried to keep himself from begging, but it slipped out. He pressed his head back against the pillow, scrunching his eyes shut. The room was quiet for a moment, before he heard the door slowly creak open and shut.

Once it clicked closed, he heard someone gasp and he opened his eyes to see Eugene looking blurrily around. Their eyes met.

“Hi, Eugene.”

Eugene was quiet for a long moment, before tears bloomed in his eyes and he launched forward, taking George in his arms. George grunted, but found himself wrapping Eugene in a hug, as best as he could with the wires restricting his movements. “Eugene—”

“You stupid, stupid man,” Eugene bit out, pulling back and his face was stained with tears. “You can’t do that to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Eugene stared at him, sniffing, and gently cupped George’s face, before he tugged him close against his chest again, burying his face in the crook of George’s neck. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I won’t.”

“You better not!”

George went quiet, his grip loosening on Eugene. He was starting to remember what happened, and he found his heart racing. Eugene leaned back, staring at his face, before he started, “George . . . I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to tell them.”

“It’s all right. It wasn’t that.”

“What was it, then?”

George ran a hand through his hair, wincing as Eugene interlaced their fingers. He couldn’t be mad at Eugene. Eugene was listening to people berate his friend, and George would have done the same, be damned of the consequences. George flinched as he remembered Toye’s face. “Toye knows.”

“I’m sorry—”

“I’m not upset that you told him,” George whispered, “I’m just upset that he knows. I wanted him to live without the knowledge that I let someone do that to me.”

The look on Eugene’s face forced George to look away. “He doesn’t blame you,” Eugene said. “None of them blame you for what happened.”

“Eugene,” George replied, blandly. “I don’t want to know what they think. I really don’t.”

A pause. “Okay. We won’t talk about it, then.”

“Thank you,” George leaned back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry that I did that to you guys. I didn’t . . . it was too much.” George squeezed Eugene’s hand. “I felt so fucking lost and alone. Sure, I had gotten my relationship back with Carwood, but it felt fake. We couldn’t be around each other that much due to the fact Guarnere or Toye would cause a stink about it.” George closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Just be glad you’re alive,” Eugene said, smiling at George earnestly. “You will always have the two of us, and Ralph, and Renée . . .”

“I know. I’m . . . I’m really sorry for putting you guys in this position.”

“We’re all just glad you’re okay.” George blinked as Eugene cupped his face again, but he soon relaxed as Eugene’s thumb slowly stroked his cheek. “Just don’t shut anyone out anymore. I don’t care who you go to, just . . . talk to someone.”

George wasn’t sure if he could keep that promise. If he could talk to someone as freely as he used to. Being so free and loose lipped was what got him into this position to begin with. He flirted carelessly, casually with people he had no romantic interest in. How was anyone supposed to know when he was serious?

“Sure, Eugene,” he said. “No problem.”

George blinked tiredly as Eugene rolled him out of the front of the hospital. He had begged the hospital staff to allow him to walk out, but they had just shaken their head at him, and pointed their fingers at Eugene and Carwood, forbidding them to allow him to walk until they got outside.

There was still gauze wrapped around his forearms, but it was more to keep George from picking at the stitches than anything else. Carwood helped him up from the chair, smiling at him tiredly. Eugene and Carwood both had taken turns staying with George, and he had been grateful at the time, now he just saw how tired they both were from watching over him.

“C’mon, man,” Eugene said, coming to George’s side to help him into the car, “Let’s go.”

“—George!”

All three of them froze as the voice shouted George’s name, and from the way Carwood cursed and Eugene’s gaze darkened, he didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Joe Toye looked just as bad as Carwood and Eugene did, although he didn’t have the excuse of being stuck at the hospital like the other two did. Guarnere followed behind, his hands shoved in his pockets and he looked sheepish, flipping his palms up when both men glared at him.

“George, I’m so sorry,” Toye began, and George blinked tiredly. “I should’ve—fuck, I’m so sorry. I should’ve known better. I—fuck, we had been together for five years and I should’ve known better. But—I’m sorry. You just—you flirted with so many people all the time, it—” Toye’s eyes darted down. “I was so worried that you were lying to me, my own fears got in the way and I—I didn’t realize what was really going on until Eugene said something. I’m sorry.”

George blinked at Toye. Toye was looking at him with such an open, _honest_ expression, but George wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Was he supposed to tell Toye that he forgave him? That he loved him and they could get back together?

_George did love him. George **did** forgive. He could never hate Joe._

“Okay,” George said, biting the inside of his cheek as his legs gave out. Carwood and Eugene immediately propped him up, getting the door opened and setting him down on the backseat. Toye looked incredibly concerned, but didn’t move towards him.

“. . . Okay?” Toye murmured, blinking at George.

“You said what you had to say,” George said, “And now you can go.” At the stunned look on Toye’s face, he continued, “Things aren’t gonna go back to the way they used to be because you said sorry. Fuck, these last couple of months were _hell_ , Joe. Five years together, and you . . .” Pain shot through his skull, and he could feel a headache coming on. Tears welled up in his eyes. “You tossed it all away because you _doubted_ my sexuality, doubted _me._ After everything we had gone through, after _everything_ . . . you just . . .” George slumped, running a hand through his hair. “You left me. You and everyone else, left me. Avoided me like I was some nasty two-dollar whore, didn’t care to hear my side. Then—then you fucking went only a month after it happened and had a fucking one-night stand. Had _countless_ more sense then.”

At the shocked look on his ex’s face, George continued, “Did you think I wouldn’t know? Wouldn’t overhear your conversation at work? Couldn’t _see_ all the people plastered to your side on and off campus?” George straightened his back. “You made your choices, and I made mine. I’m willing to live with these and change them, but it’s clear you just want them to go away. Well, they aren’t.” Then, his voice got quiet. “You always looked pretty saying sorry, Joe. But it’s just not gonna cut it this time.”

Joe’s voice broke. “George—”

“Goodbye, Toye.”

Joe went silent, and Carwood gently closed the door. Tugging up his hood, George synched the bands and obscured his face from view. Carwood’s cologne filled his nostrils and soon, he was gathered up in the man’s arms.

Suddenly, George wished he hadn’t made it.


End file.
